Deluge
by Amputation
Summary: They're right contradictions, he an' her. She's all soft an' warm an' he's all rough an' broken. Daryl character study, subtle Caryl oneshot. Written for the second uss-caryl fanfiction contest over on tumblr! Canon compliant to SE3E16. T for Dixon mouth.


**A/N: **Another fanfiction/fanart contest entry for tumblr's uss-caryl! Wish me luck!

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Deluge

Written by Amputation (captainqueernerd)

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Th' fuck do ya' call it? Some word startin' with'a "t," he ain't sure now. Words ain't his thing anyhow, guess it doesn't matter none. All he knows is it's comin' down in goddamn buckets. In sheets so thick he can't even see his own nose. Ain't goin' nowhere, now. Not with the fuckin' rain makin' th' ground too muddy an' slippery t' be safe. They're gonna' have t' spend th' night in th' huntin' cabin. Fuck.

_He steps back against the wall under the tiny porch, sheltered from the heavy rainfall._

It's a love-hate relationship he's got with th' rain. It right sucks for huntin' an' trackin'. Tends t' wash clues 'way like they ain't never existed in th' first place. So he ain't findin' it pretty or none'a that shit, at least not right now. They were on a supply run, he an' Carol. Was only s'posed t' be for a day, jus' scavengin' a few houses a couple'a miles from th' prison. Ain't gonna' be like that now, jus' a long night.

As a kid, he used t' like tracin' the paths th' droplets took down th' glass'a his windows as gravity pulled 'em down. Always felt like it was haven 'way from his Daddy's abuse an' his big brother's sneerin'. Safe from th' fucked up life he knew. Only when it rained did he try t' understand why th' fuck he'd been dealt shitty cards. Used t' feel like God was weepin' for him, 'til he learned better. 'Til he told Merle an' th' fucker'd laughed at him good'n long. Knew better now; God didn't give two shits 'bout him.

"_You're still awake?"_

_Her soft voice startles him, though not visibly, "Yeah, gotta' problem with'at?" he replies, turning to look at her standing in the doorway._

Carol's th' only good thing 'bout th' dead walkin'. Never would'a met her if th' world hadn't gone t' shit. She's somethin' special, somethin' great. He doesn't regret takin' her under his wing over th' last winter, doesn't regret teachin' her t' survive. She's a spitfire, that woman, got a spirit so strong ain't nothin' gonna' break it ever 'gain. Ain't never gonna' be another Ed t' fuck her over. She ain't got time for that shit. She's a survivor, an' damn if he's gonna' let somethin' hurt her ever again.

_She shakes her head at him and hugs herself, arms tight across her chest under the warm quilt they'd found in the cabin. A smile plays at her lips.  
"I really love it when it rains," she whispers, the quiet admission harmonious with the rhythmic pounding of the rain. _

She looks so serene, standin' there next t' him, lookin' out at th' wet world. They're right contradictions, he an' her. She's all soft an' warm an' he's all rough an' broken. It's damn scary, though, how much this slip of a woman means t' him now. Never would'a thought some lady'd come t' be everythin' to him. He ain't got much experience with th' fairer sex, seein' as Merle got all th' attention back before th' dead started walkin'.

He doesn't deserve her, he knows. It ain't a mystery why; he ain't got much t' offer a woman like her. Jus' his body an' brains, both'a which ain't all that good anyway. He ain't worthy of th' ground she walks on. A woman that good deserves a fuckin' prince on some stupid ass white stallion or whatever th' fuck those dumb stories said. He ain't close t' bein' a prince; closest he comes is th' shit th' horse leaves behind.

But he's selfish. Ain't nothin' he can do 'bout it, he just is. Doesn't wanna' share her with nobody, doesn't wanna' let her go. She actually gives a shit 'bout scum like him; genuinely cares for him. She takes time outta' her busy days t' check on him. She offers company when he's alone, an' asks 'bout how he's feelin'. Never really gives answers, bein' the jackass he is, but he 'ppreciates it more'n she knows. She's somethin' precious, somethin' rare, that woman.

She's seen him at his worst: seen his scars, seen his rage, seen all th' ugly parts'a him he doesn't wanna' show nobody. She sees th' real him, th' man buried beneath th' scars an' th' anger an' the pain that he doesn't show nobody. She sees it an' still doesn't go runnin' 'way. She doesn't see any'a his failures, doesn't think he ain't worth her time. "Every bit as good as them," she said, "every bit," and he ain't never gonna' forget that. She's like th' soothe t' an ache he never thought could be lessened, a resounding prayer for better days forever on th' horizon. She's a source of hope in his shitty life, her presence pushes 'way th' fear of th' future, th' fear of th' unknown. She doesn't promise everythin' will be alright, but that's okay by him. It'd be an empty promise anyhow.

He doesn't wanna' let her go, doesn't wanna' lose th' one good thing he's got left. So he won't. He's okay with bein' selfish.

She's a torrential force, somethin' t' be reckoned with. Torrential... yeah, that's th' word he was lookin' for earlier. Torrential like the rain fallin' hard outside th' cabin.

_He slants his gaze to her, warm by his side, and figures he's got another reason to like the rain._

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**A/N: **Review, if you could be so kind! I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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